


like burning snow

by slightlyworriedhuman



Series: PT5D [3]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Five doesn't know how to admit he needs help or how to accept it when offered, Flashbacks, Mentions of Death, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, mentions of accidental self harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 14:37:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17941592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyworriedhuman/pseuds/slightlyworriedhuman
Summary: At the start, he was able to hide it. The first many times he woke up in a blind panic, he managed to teleport himself into the basement that Vanya had destroyed, where his screams echoed off of jagged walls before dying, unheard by his sleeping siblings. Even if they had been awake, they would have had to strain to hear his cries, muffled as they were by his teeth sinking into the flesh of his arm. He would stay down there until he felt he could breathe, and finally leave to sit on the roof, staring out at the sun rising on an undemolished city, drawing in shaky breaths as he sipped coffee to calm his frayed nerves. Even despite the fact that he had gone over a month without proper rest, he could survive. God knew he had lived on much less during the beginning of his time in hell on earth. No, it was only when he began to wake up with the shrieks already ripping from his throat that his situation became an issue.PTSD can leave some nasty nightmares. It's hard to admit when you need help.





	like burning snow

**Author's Note:**

> In which Five has a hard time fighting his past's demons, Diego is supportive, and someone needs to tell this asshol it's okay to admit you need help.
> 
> I smell a suspicious lack of fics with Diego and Five bonding. Also, Diego has overpowering older brother energy.

The first time it happens, it was a nightmare worse than his previous ones; hell, calling it a nightmare is an understatement. His dreams were filled with the taste of ash, the smell of smoke circling through his mind. When he wakes, all he can see is ashy static even with his eyes wide open, the only thing he can taste the bitter burn of never-ending fire. It’s as if he can't draw in breath, and his ears are splitting with a fractured scream, unable to pinpoint where it’s coming from. His skin is on fire, like white hot pins and needles, like being burnt alive in the inbetween of spacetime. His hands are clenched over his ears, nails digging into the skin above the cup of his ear, throat feeling blistered and raw as he struggles for air, struggles to find the noise, struggles to see past the ash that falls across his vision like snow. He can't breathe, can't think, can't can't can't--

“Five!” 

Strong pressure encircling his wrists, and his hands are yanked away from his ears, the broken shrieking only growing in volume. Hands on his shoulders, his biceps, all over him, shaking him and pulling. His eyes jitter across the emptiness before him, seeing nothing but dark grey smoke clouds and ash, nothing but the hellish static of his life for years on end, nothing but nothing but _nothing--_

 _“Five!”_ A harsh jolt through his whole body, like he's being shaken by a rag doll, and suddenly Diego is before him, holding his wrists tightly, his other siblings rushing in the door. The screaming cuts off and he finally sucks in a gasp, eyes skipping from face to face, unable to comprehend. Are the corpses back again, still haunting him in a way he imagined only Klaus could understand? His shoulders are shaking, and he can’t seem to control his lungs. The short gasps that sound like muted screams are coming from him, ripping at his sore throat, and oh, _oh--_

__Something he can't identify rises in him, an odd white-pink-sad-hate-fear mixed with an underlying burn of shame, and he squeezes his eyes shut, ripping his wrists from Diego’s hands and teleporting himself down to the basement. He can hear them shouting his name from upstairs, hear Luther's heavy footfall rushing down the stairs to search for him. He digs his teeth into the palm of his hand to silence any further cries and pulls his knees to his chest, fighting himself to calm down._ _

__When he reappears hours later, fully dressed and refusing to meet Diego's eyes as he pours himself a small glass of bourbon, nobody comments. He's gone before they have the chance to._ _

__He manages to go a few nights before anything happens again. Any time one of them tries to confront him, he brushes them aside and changes the subject, not allowing them the opportunity to question him. Unfortunately, he knows it can't be long before the incident repeats._ _

__When it does, a week after, it's somehow worse than the first time; the sound of his own screams wakes him, and although this time he can identify who the cry belongs to, he's powerless to stop it. His vision is once again filled with ash clouding his vision, and though a small part of him is yelling that it's just a dream, it's drowned out by the alarm bells ringing in his head. His throat hurts, and he can taste blood bubbling up on his tongue, though the shrieking continues uninterrupted. Kinesthetic awareness practically nonexistent in his panic, he’s hardly aware of his arms and hands, can't feel the nails digging into either forearm until warm hands once again grab his and yank them away. “Five! Goddammit-- Five!” He whirls his head, wildly looking for the source of his name amid the burning snow, and suddenly Diego is there, and--_ _

__Five's heart drops in sheer terror at the sight of his brother's face. Blood trickles from his temple, ash smudged under his eyes. Fear on his face. He's only seen fear on his corpse, the remnant of the expression worn when he died, when Five found him-- and oh, oh he's back again to haunt him. To scream at him for not saving him. To open his mouth and yell, screech until the falling ash fills his gaping jaw._ _

___“NO-- You're DEAD, YOU--”_ He screams again, and curls in on himself, reaching for his powers and grabbing the taste of ozone as hard as he can. Diego's yell mixes with his own, and when he opens his eyes again, panting for air between his shrieks, Diego is still with him, hands clenching his, frame silhouetted by the concrete walls of the basement. Ash swirls among the broken spikes, settling on the once-gleaming metal. _“NO!”_ Five yells, clenching his eyes shut and trying desperately to pull away. _“NO, go AWAY, you AREN'T REAL--”_ _ _

__“FIVE!” He is shaken violently, and he forces his eyes open to see Diego's corpse, grasping him tightly by the wrists, panic in his eyes. “Five, calm-- calm down, okay? I'm here, I'm real, see?” Ash settles in his hair as Five watches, eyes wide and unfocused as they dart over his frame. Diego hadn't been wearing night shorts when he died. What? “Five, you gotta stop sc-sc-- yelling, okay, it's okay, alright?” He looks back up at Diego's face, sees that the ash beneath his eyes is just dark circles, that there is no wound on his head. Ash is still drifting around them. Clamping his lip between his teeth to bite back another inadvertent scream, he lets Diego shuffle closer, feels him switch to holding both of his skinny hands in one of his own, the calluses from years throwing knives dotting his long fingers as they encircle his. As he closes his eyes again, hyperventilating through his nose, Diego places a hand on his shoulder, gentle pressure helping to slowly ground him. “That's it, just breathe, alright?” The ash is still behind his eyes, hellish snow dancing against the backs of his eyelids. When he opens his eyes, it remains, swirling through the air, but Diego’s face is somehow clear, still focused on him, still _alive._ _ _

__Gradually, he manages to slow his breathing, focusing on the creases of worry on Diego's brow, on the pressure of his hand on his shoulder. His brother continues speaking to him, mindless instructions of breathing and reassurances that he's okay. He faintly hears footsteps coming down the hall to them, but can't bring himself to look at his siblings as they approach. If he looks at them, he might see their corpses, back again; he can't handle that, not while the ash is just finally starting to fade. Eventually, a soft hand lands on his other shoulder, warmth pressing against his side. The smell of Vanya's shampoo floats through the air, and it erases the smell of the smoke, as if cleaning it from the air. Finally, when he blinks, the ash is gone. The air is clean. His family surrounds him, out of sight but still close enough to touch, and for now at least, they are safe. He is safe. He finally slumps back, an unsteady breath escaping him. “I…” Clearing his throat, he looks down at the floor, away from Diego's worried eyes. “I'm sorry.” The shame washes over him, curdling his blood with its strength; his whole family there to see him break down down over something as ridiculous as a dream, a dream that lingered in his waking consciousness. He felt pathetic._ _

__“You don't need to apologize, Five.” Diego's voice lacks its normal curtness, and the unexpected softness in his tone is enough to make Five's gut clench in hot embarrassment. “Just… what's going on?” He grits his teeth, clenches his hands unconsciously on Diego's. It's unavoidable that he owes them an explanation, especially after disturbing them like this in early morning; however, his normal detachment from speaking about his past seems to have abandoned him, the emotional callus stripped away by his mind's attack on itself. Swallowing, he forces himself to look up at Diego, and opens his mouth to answer. It takes a moment for the words to form, but finally, he forces out sound._ _

__“I… When I was--” Oh, it feels like coughing up acid, and he needs to stop and take a breath, choking down the shame of admitting his weakness, the pain of admitting this. “When--”_ _

__“Hey.” Klaus's voice, uncannily serious, cuts across his words. He feels Allison shift slightly away, and Klaus is beside him, crouching down and placing his tattooed hands on Five's elbows. The unbidden contact that would normal repulse him is, for once, welcome, and Five looks at his brother. His face is full of understanding, somehow both pained and painful to see. “If you don't want to talk about it with… everyone here, y'know. That's fine.”_ _

__“Wait, Klaus--” Klaus twists to look up where Luther's voice originates from, and the glimpse of open hostility on his face is enough to cement in Five's mind that for once, his brother is probably the best person to rely on here. After a moment, Klaus turns back to Five._ _

__“Come talk to me. Okay? Later.” He leans in close, dropping his voice so low that it's likely only Vanya can hear it aside from him and Five. “I promise I get it. Maybe not the circumstances, but the consequences, at least.” _Oh._ Suddenly, Klaus's behaviour makes sense. After a moment, Five nods, and Klaus draws back, dropping his hands from Five's elbows. They sit in silence for a moment, their odd family crowded together, before Five feels exhaustion run through him, making him sink further back despite the rigidity from his stress. Diego obviously catches his lapse in tenseness, and with a soft grunt, he stands, lifting Five with ease. Five yelps at his unexpected departure from the floor, but Diego grabs him easily, deftly maneuvering him into a comfortable position in his arms. _ _

__“If you're gonna talk later, might as well get some rest now. Sun isn't even up yet. All of you guys, go back to sleep, okay?” Ah, there it is; despite them all being born on the same day, despite their numbering given to them by Reginald, Diego has always acted as more of an older brother than their Number One ever has. As he turns and begins to walk away, Diego murmurs, “How long has it been since you got a decent night's sleep?” It takes Five a minute to think._ _

__“...Two months?” Diego sighs, shaking his head._ _

__“Jesus, Five… why didn't you tell us?”_ _

__“It was none of your business,” he snaps, regretting his harshness immediately after. Goddammit, he had always been bad at accepting help. Diego doesn't seem bothered though, just continuing to carry Five up the stairs._ _

__“You are our business, Five, whether you like it or not. We’re family, okay? We promised after all that shit that we're going to do better at the whole familial thing. That means you too.” He pauses at the landing of the stairs, looking down at Five. “I don't care if you don't want to tell us what happened. If you only want to tell Klaus, that's fine. But you gotta remember that we're here for you. If you need us for something, you just have to tell us.” They continue up the stairs to their rooms in silence. It’s a hard pill for Five to swallow, but he can't exactly deny that Diego is right; he's been neglecting his side of the bargain. So much for being a responsible adult. When they reached his room, Diego pauses again. “...Would you sleep better if I was here?”_ _

__“What?” His brother shrugs._ _

__“When Klaus used to get nightmares, sometimes I'd sneak into his room and stay with him. Sometimes it helped him sleep.” Five pauses. The idea of a night of actual peaceful sleep is tempting. _Very_ tempting. _ _

__“...Maybe.” It's the closest Five can come to admitting how much he needs his brother's help. Diego nods anyways, and crosses the room, setting Five down on his bed. Pulling out his desk chair, Diego sits as Five pushing the covers out from beneath himself and pulls them back over his skinny frame. Even in the relative darkness of his room, lit only by a lamp, Five can see the dark circles beneath Diego's eyes. After a moment, he sighs, mentally steeling himself._ _

__“You said everyone needs to sleep, and you won't be comfy in that chair. Believe me, I've fallen asleep in it more than once. Do… Do you want to lay down?” Diego's eyebrow raises further than Five thought possible, and despite the lingering worry on his face, a small grin draws up the corner of his mouth._ _

__“Never thought I'd see you offering your bed to anyone, Five,” he jibes, and Five groans, rolling over so he doesn't have to see the stupid smirk on Diego's face._ _

__“Just lay down, asshole.” A soft chuckle sounds around the room, but he hears the clicking of his lamp light turning off nonetheless as he closes his eyes. Moments later, a warm weight sinks onto the small bed beside him, and he mutters, “Put your feet on me and I'll kill you.”_ _

__“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Shut up and get some sleep.” Despite himself, Five feels calmer as the exhaustion he's been fighting overtakes him than he has been in months, years, decades. Diego shifts slightly next to him, and his last thought before slipping into unconsciousness is that maybe his brother isn't such an asshole after all._ _

__It's the first dreamless sleep he's had in years._ _

**Author's Note:**

> A second chapter of this will probably be written soon if people seem interested! I finally put up a writing list on my tumblr @officialfivehargreeves, so if you want to stay updated on when I plan to post my works and on future works in progress, check it out there! 
> 
> PTSD can leave you with all sorts of after effects that may feel shameful to admit that you have. Nightmares, flashbacks, paranoia, all of that and more can haunt you from day to day. There's nothing shameful about needing help. If you need to talk, I'm here. I know what you're going through; I'm fighting it myself. This isn't the end. Take care of yourself.


End file.
